I’m very patriotic honoring the past, patient with the future, proud to be an American no matter what’s presently going on.
I’m a soldier’s daughter after all.
My dad served during the Second World War in the Royal Air Force (RAF) flying planes, stealing the hearing in his left ear as an honorary keepsake.
He never talked about his war days, and could never even watch a movie or newsreel that showed any kind of warfare. He kept what he saw locked in his heart, alcohol muting its memory.
I’ve often wondered if that’s what truly caused the alcoholism that eventually killed him, another casualty of war.
It brings me to Meyer, the Vietnam Vet, who panhandles in front of Best Buy wearing vintage fatigues, his dog tags entwining a sign that reads…
A Vietnam Veteran Who Needs Your Help
He always has a beer in a paper bag the cops never seem to bust him for.
Is it out of guilt.
Pity?
I wonder if the masses walking past him realize the sacrifice he made. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention he’s got one arm that ends at his elbow, swaying in the sunshine like a lopsided ear of corn.
When I walked the Gettysburg Battlefield where in 1863 Pickett’s Charge took place, I thought I heard cries mewling from the earth. To this day I’m truly not sure if I imagined it or not. Patton claimed he heard them too, on other fields, from other wars.
Deadspeak, I’ve heard it called, where the souls that are trapped still trying to take flight, howl for help.
Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred…
There’s a graveyard in northern France where all the dead boys from D-Day are buried. The white crosses reach from one horizon to the other…
“Remember The Alamo.”
Robert Dale Draper, 19, was killed in an ambush.
Stan King, 21, was killed less than a week after reaching Vietnam.
Alfred Van Whitmer, 21, was killed while on patrol.
Larry J. West, 19 was shot near Quang Nam.
Jose Moncayo, 22, was part of an entire platoon wiped out.
Clive Garcia, 22, was killed by a booby trap while leading a patrol.
Daddy, we’ll remember the fallen, even if it’s painful…even if we don’t know all their names.
Memorial Day…2019
A Soldier’s Daughter. 
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Authentic, beautifully written and from the heart. A wonderful tribute for the holiday weekend.
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Were you a Soldier Frank? Wondering is all. My dad’s name was Frank. 😊
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No … my dad was a teen in the Army (WW2)
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I see.
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I can not begin to imagine the horrors of war, let alone being thrust into its midst. The sacrifices that our soldiers have made for our freedom should never be forgotten or taken for granted.
This is a day for collective rememberance.
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So beautifully said Skinny. I feel the weekend like it’s a personal wound. And frankly that’s how I think it should be for those left to bask in such glorious freedom.
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Very sweet
Hal
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Thanks Hal. Have a nice Memorial Day.
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Susannah,
You’ve outdone yourself with this beautiful tribute to the individuals whose sacrifice can never be repaid by us. And as you well know, they do not even so much as ask for a thank you. They regard their service as that which needed doing, simple as that.
Of course, none of it is simple.
Love this piece, SB.
Peace and love to you
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I’m a teary patriot alright. I just can’t help it. People think Memorial Day is just about a white sale. Bewildering to say the least. Thanks.
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Thank you SB. Truly.
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Memorial Day…it isn’t about cook outs, fun and games. It’s about remembering. The day my husband left the front lines in Korea his tank was hit. Thankfully no one was injured or killed. The day he returned from Viet-Nam was quiet in the air terminal. He was quiet then and for a long time. He rarely talked of it…he did say it was the worst year of his life. He served this country with his heart and soul for 32 years. We lost so many wonderful friends and I still weep watching movies about wars…watching parades even touches me from inside out. I’m writing this, thinking of what you’re written so beautifully and yes, I’m shedding tears because of what has been given to save this awesome United States…at such cost. So many gave so much and we owe them our respect, and heartfelt love.
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32 years. Wow. That’s incredible.
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I’m remembering with you.
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My friend David is listening to The Killer Angels, about Gettysburg on tape. Now that’s one way of remembering. To go back and watch, or listen.
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What a good idea!
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I thought so, and he said, it’s amazing to listen to. I’ve only read it.
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It’s just shocking how many have perished or been forever altered on the battlefields of this world. Thanks for remembering them in this tribute.
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I know. It’s so taken for granted, then you go to a battlefield, of Arlington and see the graves and it just takes your breath away.
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My Dad was in the RAF too. I’m always torn between respect for the sacrifices made and utter amazement that we can do so much remembering but so little learning. Did those brave people suffer just so we could go on killing, maiming and blighting lives? I think not.
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This is one of your slam dunk paragraphs. Yes, so much remembering and so little learning, There it is…should be posted somewhere as a global motto across the board.
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Back when I was blogging, I told of the scorn I prompted by raising the remember versus learn issue. Folk said I was shitting on the graves of our heroes. I think, given the choice between life and a shit-free grave, most would choose life. Of course, I could be wrong.
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We can all be wrong, or not, but the world is spinning out of control alright. We weren’t around, me for either World War, you during The Blitz. I’m sure those who were felt the way we do. History does repeat itself Mick, even if it looks slightly different. It’s just smoke and mirrors if you ask me.
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I missed this one, and apologise for my tardiness. My only excuse is I’ve been moving all week
Beautiful tribute you have done here.
You are a true patriot
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That’s right, you’re moving. I see Zeke carrying a chair. I hope you’ll be very happy in your new home. Beginnings begin for a reason.
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Yep. New beginnings for sure. Zeke is hanging out at my sister’s because he was getting stressed by all the action…
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Awe…puppy didn’t want to leave home maybe. Animals are so sensitive. sigh
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He didn’t know what the hell was going on
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Oh…poor puppy. But he’ll regain himself. He’s German after all. Woof!
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He’s having a blast tormenting and being tormented by my sister’s cars…
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Boys will be boys.
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They will. Both the two- and four-legged ones
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I don’t think anyone who’s not been there can really know what it’s like to be in combat and the sacrifice of those who have seen it. It’s terrible how little support we give veterans after they come back. My grandfather who was in WW2 was an alcoholic too. I never got to talk to him since he died when I was very young.
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I was reading stories vets gave in an interview that were so heartbreaking. How wounded their minds are remembering all they saw and went through. We just have no idea.
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